


Complicated Orders

by livvylive



Category: The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Other, Super Painfully Gay, coffee snobbery, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvylive/pseuds/livvylive
Summary: The gay coffee shop au no one asked for.In which Drizzt and Artemis are coffee snobs, Afafrenfere is a meddler, and Effron flirts with death by caffeine overdose.





	1. Black, Four Shots, Six Pumps Syrup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SquirrellyThief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrellyThief/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heartbeat in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/728775) by [SquirrellyThief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrellyThief/pseuds/SquirrellyThief). 



> Inspired by SquirrellyThief's Moonlight Over the Forest series, a series in which everything doesn't go to shit, female characters aren't reduced to sexist archetypes, and characters actually receive meaningful development.  
> Also, everyone is extremely gay.

Afafrenfere

_Afafrenfere: can you come in today  
_ _10:23_

_Afafrenfere: you still have read receipts on. i know you read that. i thought i taught you how to turn those off?  
_ _10:37_

_Afafrenfere: come on, we need someone from noon to eight. jarlaxle fired kimmi.  
_ _10:37_

_Afafrenfere: please?  
_ _10:38_

_Drizzt: I’ll be there.  
__10:39_  
Read

* * *

 

Drizzt let out a sharp hiss as hot coffee splashed onto his wrist. Balancing a large tray of blueberry muffins in one hand, he shook away the dark droplets and shoved the coffeepot back into place. There was supposed to be an automatic lock on the thing to stop him from knocking it askew while it was brewing, but it had been broken for ages. He was considerably more careful the second time he tried to maneuver the muffins (homemade, according to the sign, but actually just bought frozen, sprinkled with extra sugar, and heated up in the kitchen) over to the display case. The space behind the counter was cramped enough to make it a difficult job, but once the muffins were restocked he wouldn’t have to restock them again before close. Hopefully.

It had been about three and a half hours since Afafrenfere had texted Drizzt, and two since Drizzt had arrived at the shop. Giving up half his Sunday to serve coffee wasn’t the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him, but it was hard to be truly bitter. Black Magic Coffee (and _gods,_ Drizzt hated that name) wasn’t a bad place to work. Jarlaxle paid his employees well and didn’t mind them keeping books or laptops behind the counter to amuse themselves when business was slow. On top of that, he was incredibly flexible with scheduling. Black Magic had odd hours, staying open til well after the bars closed and not opening until an hour before noon, but so long as there was always someone working Jarlaxle more or less left his employees to work out a schedule on their own. That alone made the work worthwhile in Drizzt’s book. Coffee was his day job, but the bulk of his annual income came from photography contracts that sometimes required him to drop everything and take off into the wilderness for weeks at a time with little more than a few days’ notice. Having a steady position that allowed for those sudden breaks provided him with considerably more financial security than living assignment to assignment.

It certainly left him better of than where he’d been before Jarlaxle had found him.

And now that Kimmuriel was gone, there would hopefully be quite a bit less scheming and workplace drama. The other drow had always fancied himself more of an owner than a manager. It wouldn’t have caused anything more than a little resentment in most shops, but Black Magic had one absolute rule: Jarlaxle was the one in charge. Period. Managers could make little decisions, but Jarlaxle _always_ had final say. Apparently Kimmuriel had pushed a little too far when he’d threatened to ban a customer for some perceived slight, forcing Jarlaxle to finally let him go. The pair were still friends, according to the ever-up-to-date Afafrenfere, but things in the shop would undoubtedly be a little calmer now that the staff was smaller. _And more hours never hurt…_

 All in all, Black Magic was an excellent place to work. Even if Drizzt had to come in on a Sunday.

“Got the muffins,” he called out as he silenced the beeping timer by the pastry case that had signaled the readiness of the sugar-crusted pastries. The abrupt end to its shrill announcements left the shop blessedly quiet. The soft strains of jazz once more floated through the air, and Afafrenfere’s muffled acknowledgement just barely made it to him from the back room.

Crammed in between apartment buildings and high rises as it was, Black Magic had a layout as strange as its hours. The pastry case was the stuck right beside the glass door, and the coffee bar extended past it. Both were just a little too close to the east wall, making for tight working quarters. They’d had to implement a rule that no more than two people could be behind the counter after The Great Espresso Disaster of 1484. All the machinery and equipment needed for crafting everything from triple shot flavored blended mochas to simple drip coffees was lined up along the wall behind the counter, shiny, chrome, and well-organized thanks to Drizzt’s neat habits and Jarlaxle’s insistence on cleanliness. Afafrenfere, the shop’s only other year-round employee, had little to contribute to the clean state of things, but he tended to keep his messes small and mostly tidied up after himself.

Across the counter from the coffee station, rows of chairs and tables were lined up right against the wall. There were a few couches and armchairs scattered here and there, including the battered secondhand black leather couch right against the front window that always seemed to be claimed by the same tall, thin, caffeine-addicted student. It perfectly filled the space between the wall and the edge of the door. All of the seating was fairly comfortable, and there was actually a fair amount of space between the seats and the counter, but the overall appearance was that of a narrow, cramped space decorated with a little too much black and purple. The floors were white tile, but the walls were painted black and decorated with a shimmering purple design faintly reminiscent of spiderwebs.

But it was the back that was strangest for such a shop. There were two rooms in the back of the shop, branching off a tight hallway accessible only through a door behind the counter. The first was a kitchen, complete with ovens, stovetops, and a walk-in fridge. The equipment was all fairly new and was certainly in working condition. If Jarlaxle ever wanted to provide muffins that were _actually_ made from scratch in the shop, he’d certainly have the space to do so. Across the hall from the kitchen was the room all the employees just called ‘the back.’ It was a surprisingly comfortable break room, with an employee fridge, a table and a few wobbly chairs, a small private bathroom with a tiny shower, and a set of cabinets where employees were permitted to store just about anything they wanted. That was where Drizzt kept his own pour-over coffeemaker and his own grounds. After spending nearly eight years working at a coffee shop, he’d become a little bit of a coffee snob.

What made the back particularly interesting was the privacy it offered. Thanks to the layout of the shop and the thickness of the brick walls the backroom was warm and practically sound-proof. It made it perfect for breaks and ideal for studying, and Jarlaxle had been known to give a few regulars from the local college permission to use it for study sessions or meetings. More than once Drizzt had come in to open the shop and found Effron, the same student who usually claimed the leather couch, asleep in the back with his face buried in some medical text.

Afafrenfere emerged from that same back room just as Drizzt finished returning the muffin tray to the kitchen. Afafrenfere, or Aff, was a tall and lanky young human with curly blonde hair, too many freckles, blue-grey eyes that seemed to change with the light, and youthful features usually split by a wide grin. Though he was considerably younger than Drizzt, the two had struck up quite the friendship over the three years Aff had been at Black Magic.

“Hey, thanks for grabbing those,” Afafrenfere chirped as he brushed past Drizzt to take over manning the counter. It was just past two, which meant that Effron would soon be swinging by for one of his too-many daily coffees. Effron was a skinny graduate student who’d made Black Magic his home away from home. Aff made a point of always having his 2:00pm coffee (black, four shots, and six pumps of clear) ready for him the moment he arrived. Drizzt was privately certain that Afafrenfere was more than a little interested in Effron, and that the feeling was mutual, but neither of them seemed to have found a good way to break past endless flirting yet. “And thanks again for coming in,” Aff called back to Drizzt, breaking him from his thoughts. “You wanna take a break now or later?”

“Now,” Drizzt called back. The next half hour or so would be mostly parents seeking a caffeine fix before they had to pick up their children from school. That meant mostly mochas and caramel macchiatos with a thousand slight variations. Afafrenfere was far better at handling those sorts of drinks than Drizzt was. Drizzt could grind beans and make americanos all day long, but the moment someone ordered a double soy nonfat extra foam no whip half ice caramel hazelnut latte with six pumps and an extra shot his head started to hurt. Most of Black Magic’s customers kept things simpler than that, but there were always a few with more complicated orders…

Once Aff confirmed that he had the front counter handled, Drizzt ducked into the back. He hummed a tuneless melody as he ambled across the room to fetch his precious pour-over from its cabinet. It wasn’t a fancy machine, not nearly as fancy as his coffee, but he cherished it. Years of practice made it easy for him to get a cup of coffee made. The coffee Jarlaxle served wasn’t bad, really, but it was nothing compared to a perfect cup brewed from the specialty blend Drizzt ordered for himself once a month. He’d found it online, grown and ground and shipped by a little organic co-op called Iruladoon, and the first time he’d brewed a cup he’d fallen in love with the blend’s smooth flavor and surprising complexity and never looked back. Once the coffee was ready, he finished it with a splash of half and half and settled himself down in the least-wobbly chair to enjoy his break. Sweet coffee, peace and quiet, a relatively comfortable seat- all that was stopping this little back room from feeling like home was his cat, Guenhwyvar.

But his peace and quiet only lasted a handful of minutes. Before Drizzt was even halfway done with his coffee, Afafrenfere’s curly blonde head popped into view past the door frame. His bright smile had given way to a look of pure exasperation. “Guy out here wants to talk to my manager,” he informed Drizzt. The human kept his tone professional, just in case customers were listening, but Drizzt could see the agony in his eyes. It was a pain he himself knew all too well. The most difficult kind of customer always seemed to think _I want to speak to your manager_ was some sort of magical incantation that guaranteed they would get their way. It was exhausting on a good day. On a bad day it made murder seem like a perfectly reasonable course of action.

“Be right there,” Drizzt reassured Aff. The man’s head disappeared, and when Drizzt strained his ears he could just make out the sound of him coolly reassuring a customer up front. The low, irritated reply he received was too quiet for Drizzt to make out, so he just set his coffee aside and marched up front.

Once there, he found Afafrenfere speaking with a striking (and faintly grubby) human man. His features where sharp enough to make someone bleed, and his face was set into what looked like a permanent scowl. Gray eyes set against gray-tinged skin flickered to Drizzt as soon as he appeared, and the scowl deepened. “Who’re you?” he demanded. A faint desert accent colored his words.

 _Charming_. Professional, polite smile, frozen onto his features, Drizzt held out a hand. The stranger only stared at it, so he dropped it again. “My name is Drizzt. I’m the manager here. Can I help you?”

The man looked him up and down, sharp gray eyes taking in every detail. It was almost unsettling to be so thoroughly studied. Drizzt felt as if he was being dissected, broken down to his most basic parts, but then it was over as abruptly as it had begun.

“He says you don’t have my pour-over.” The stranger waved a hand at Afafrenfere, who was slowly trying to inch down the counter. A quick glance reveled to Drizzt that Effron was at the far end, looking painfully uncomfortable as he bore reluctant witness to the confrontation at the register.

“We don’t,” Drizzt replied smoothly. “But we do have-“

“No,” the man interrupted him. “No, you _have_ my pour-over. I paid for the damn machine. _And_ the beans.” Drizzt opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off again. “Is Jarlaxle here?”

 _That_ made Drizzt raise a brow. Usually the only people who came in asking for Jarlaxle by name were other drow or Athrogate, the burly dwarf who rented the upstairs apartment next to Jarlaxle’s own. “I’m not sure, given it’s a Sunday.” He put a little too much emphasis on the last word for his reply to be wholly diplomatic, but his customer service smile was still fixed firmly in place. “But if you like, I could call him.” It hadn’t taken Drizzt long to learn that when someone asked for Jarlaxle by name it was always easiest to leave them for the flamboyant drow himself to handle.

This particular problem customer, however, didn’t seem inclined to wait for Drizzt to make a call. Before he was even done talking, the stranger had pulled out a phone that looked to be at least ten years out of date. He punched in a number rapid-fire, then glared at his phone, deleted what he’d typed, and started over. This time he seemed to get it right, judging by the way he slammed the phone against his ear. Unsure of what else to do with himself, Drizzt scooted aside to give Afafrenfere access to the register. Then he just waited. Did the man actually have Jarlaxle’s number? And if he did, would Jarlaxle even pick up?

His surprise was immediate and embarrassingly obvious when he heard the faint sound of his employer’s voice through the stranger’s phone.

“Jarlaxle?” the man demanded. Jarlaxle’s responses were just barely too quiet for Drizzt to make out. “Your barista says he doesn’t have my coffee.” A pause and another faint reply, this one sounding incredulous. “No, nine years. Doesn’t matter. Why would you get rid of my coffee maker?” Another reply. “That doesn’t mean you can get rid of it!” Laughter. “Where are you?” An answer, but Drizzt couldn’t make out the tone of it over the sound of Aff ringing up a pale and exhausted Effron. “What, you’re still living there? Fine. Two minutes.”

And with that, the stranger snapped his phone shut and walked away. No thanks, no goodbyes, no acknowledgement. Drizzt just stared after him, torn between irritation and amusement, until the bell over the door signaled the man’s departure. Effron was the only customer left in the shop then, the parents rushing to schools not yet breaking down the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Aff asked Drizzt incredulously. He didn’t bother to keep his voice down. Effron was practically part of the furniture at this point, and there was nothing he hadn’t heard about the little dramas and inner workings of the coffee shop.

Drizzt just shook his head, the white wisps of hair that had escaped his bun bouncing a little. “I have no idea,” he answered. “Never seen him before.” His lavender gaze lingered on the door for a moment, narrowed now that he didn’t have to pretend to be happy to help an arrogant ass. “I just hope we don’t have to see him again.”

“Amen to that, brother.” Aff slapped him on the shoulder, then shoved him gently in the direction of the back room where his coffee still sat waiting. “Amen to that.”


	2. Non-Fat Sugar-Free Triple-Shot Extra-Pump Blended Zebra Mocha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be trying to update on a roughly weekly basis. Thank you for your lovely comments! Let it officially be known that I am a hundred percent in favor of an escort!Drizzt fic.

Work  
_Jarlaxle, Afafrenfere, and 3 More…_

 _Jarlaxle: My sincerest apologies to those of you who had to_  
fend off my old friend today.  
11:04pm

 _Jarlaxle: There is now a pour-over unit and a Memnon blend_  
behind the counter for him.  
11:04pm

 _Jarlaxle: Charge him double and make him make it himself.  
__11:04pm_  
Read by all

* * *

Drizzt and Afafrefere _did_ have to see Jarlaxle’s human friend again. Almost daily. His name was Artemis Entreri, and ‘arrogant ass’ didn’t even begin to accurately describe him. Fortunately for Drizzt, he was a very _particular_ arrogant ass. All the baristas had to do when he arrived was charge him and set his pour-over machine (a high-end one that had Drizzt feeling faintly envious) and coffee (a Memnon blend so dark it was nearly as black as Drizzt’s own skin) on the counter so he could brew a cup to his own exacting specifications. Most days he took his things, retreated to a corner table where he could keep an eye on the entrance, brewed his coffee, and left while it was still hot. Some days he lingered to savor it, occupying himself with something on the screen of a battered laptop. But almost every day, he had _something_ to say to Drizzt.

“Kant’s an idiot.” Drizzt was a regular at a nearby used bookshop, a quaint little place owned by an eccentric fellow named Harkle Harpell. Harkle let him display some of his photo prints in the store in exchange for a cut of any sales, and every once in a while he’d loan Drizzt an unsold book he thought might interest him. The latest was a brief philosophical treatise on Kantian ethics. The book had been sitting beside the register as Drizzt rang Artemis up.

“Oh?” Drizzt replied with an arched brow. Entreri’s bland statement, thrown out without so much as a glance Drizzt’s direction, rankled him. The man was sitting closer to the register than usual today, his customary spot having been taken over by Jarlaxle himself. The older drow lounged comfortably there like it was where he belonged, his boots propped up on a second chair and his outrageous plumed hat plopped on the table beside his papers. It was perfectly normal for Jarlaxle to spend Fridays in the shop taking stock of how his business was running and working on various bits of paperwork, but Drizzt had never seen him take his work to main floor. Usually he sat in the back. If Drizzt didn’t know any better- Actually, no. There was no ‘better’ to know. Jarlaxle had _deliberately_ chosen where he was going to work today, and Drizzt was certain he’d chosen his specific seat knowing full well that Entreri usually sat there. He could practically see Jarlaxle’s ears twitch as he eavesdropped on Drizzt and Entreri.

“Idealist,” Entreri replied. His focus was on his brewing coffee, for now, but his dented laptop was already out of its worn case and settled on the table. Drizzt wouldn’t be getting rid of him any time soon. “Idealism has no place in the real world. Kantian ethics don’t last ten seconds when life gets hard, and people don’t care if stealing is inherently wrong when they’re starving.”

A deep frown creased Drizzt’s features. He had to admit, Entreri had a point. But it was a stupid point, and one Drizzt had heard before. Most days he wouldn’t bother engaging in what was so sure to be an argument, but… Well, the shop was empty save for himself, Entreri, and Jarlaxle. And based on his order to charge Entreri double, Jarlaxle didn’t seem too concerned about providing the man with excellent customer service. “Be that as it may, ideals give us something to try and live up to. Kant’s intentions clearly aren’t to prescribe a course of action, but to provide a goal towards which we may strive.”

Entreri just snorted. “ _Or_ ,” he shot back, “Kant was a Christian with an inflated ego and enough schooling to know the morality he’d been taught was shaky at best. _And-_ ” he added, holding up a finger to forestall any argument from Drizzt. “And as a direct result he constructed the most overly-complex philosophy he could to justify clinging to what he’d been taught.”

 _Gods help me_. So Entreri was one of _those_ armchair philosophers. “If you’re going to make wild theories about Kant’s reasoning and reasonableness, we might as well talk psychology. But none of what you just claimed actually changes the fact that he provides an outline of a moral code that would, in fact, better society.”

Another snort. This time Entreri actually looked up from his coffee, leveling a disbelieving stare at Drizzt. “Are you fuc-”

“Play nice, children.” Jarlaxle’s voice neatly cut off Entreri, who turned a full-fledged glare on the flamboyant drow. He hadn’t looked up from his paperwork, and his red-painted lips didn’t betray anything but the barest hint of a smile, but the rich amusement in his voice said enough. “Or I’ll have to put you in time out.”

Drizzt’s face burned with embarrassment, but Entreri let out a huff and stopped arguing.

For now.

~

After Jarlaxle’s intervention, Entreri and Drizzt managed to go two weeks without a spat. It helped that Entreri started coming in in the mornings, rather than the afternoons, which meant he quickly got lost in the morning rushes. Keeping track of a single customer, no matter how obnoxious, was the last thing on Drizzt’s mind when he was slammed with orders for non-fat sugar-free triple-shot extra-pump blended zebra mochas.

In Drizzt’s private opinion, adding that much filler to coffee was a cardinal sin.

Finally a quiet Friday night rolled around. Drizzt hadn’t seen Entreri all day, but he’d not thought to ask about the man before Afafrenfere left for the evening. Aff had spent the morning working the shop alone while Drizzt interviewed for a new photography gig. It was an exciting opportunity, a two-week trip to collect up-close shots of native fauna for the _Neverwinter Natural Science_ journal, but there were a number of other skilled photographers vying for it. It seemed likely that Entreri must have come by while Drizzt was off throwing his own hat in the ring. The thought of having missed him was… Actually, it wasn’t as pleasant as Drizzt would have expected it to be. Entreri had become a regular, and Drizzt _liked_ regulars. They were welcome constants in the busy shop, and going too long without seeing one always made his day feel _off_. Even if it was Entreri.

Shrugging away that thought, Drizzt ducked behind the counter to paw at the shop’s sound system. It had taken him two years, one broken CD player, and at least a dozen lessons from an exasperated Aff to learn how to use the thing. Since he’d mastered it, though, Drizzt had begun his own nightly ritual. During the day the shop played low jazz, a pleasant background to the hustle and bustle. At night, though, the smooth rhythms didn’t seem quite right. Their night crowd, such as it was, mostly consisted of people going to and from the bars nearby. Jazz didn’t set the right tone. So, after spending two months straight working overnights about three years ago, Drizzt had gotten into the habit of changing the music once ten o’clock hit. Instead of jazz, he started up some alt rock. The playlist was one he’d been building almost as long as he’d been playing it at the shop, and by now it was truly a marvel in both length and variety. He was quite proud of it.

The music, still a low enough volume to allow conversation should a group wander in from the bars, had been playing for about an hour when the bell over the door heralded the arrival of a customer. Much like the rest of the decor, the bell wasn’t one that would normally be found in a coffee shop. Instead of a pleasant jingle, it was a surprisingly deep _bong_ that Jarlaxle claimed reminded him somehow of his home. Jarlaxle claimed a lot of things reminded him at home, but given they’d both grown up in Menzoberranzan Drizzt was quite sure his fellow drow simply couldn’t resist lying to surfacers.

“Welcome to Black Magic Coffee,” he called out. The greeting was so ingrained into his daily practice at this point that he’d once caught himself answering his cellphone the same way.

“What the hell is this?” Drizzt’s head snapped up from his crossword puzzle. Entreri was standing in the doorway, looking more openly annoyed than Drizzt had ever seen him. His gray gaze was focused on one of the speakers in the corner of the ceiling.

“…music?” Drizzt ventured after Entreri’s extended silence proved no further explanation was forthcoming.

“Hah.” Entreri immediately shook his head and trudged on towards the counter. “Barely. What happened to the jazz?” There was just a hint of something in his tone. It took Drizzt a minute to place it, but he almost laughed when he realized it was petulance.

“We change it at ten,” he explained. He was already punching in Entreri’s order by the time the man reached the register, and her could practically hand him his change without looking. Entreri always paid with a ten and left a two-dollar tip. Three dollars and fifty cents in change. “Since nighttime is usually the bar crowd.”

He looked up from the register when Entreri didn’t take his money as expected, only to find the man making an obvious show of staring around the shop. “Some crowd,” he pointed out once his grand performance was over. There was no one else in the building. “Change it back.”

Most of the time Entreri was obnoxious. Tonight he was actually amusing, which privately thrilled Drizzt. It was nice to see the man not get his way, and even nicer to be the reason he wasn’t getting his way. “Can’t,” Drizzt lied to him. “Shop policy.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Policy.”

“I could call Jarlaxle.”

Drizzt just laughed.

~

The next time Entreri came in, Drizzt didn’t have to deal with him directly. He was stuck at the far end of the counter, elbow-deep in an unplugged grinder. Something had jammed the fussy machine, and he was trying to dig it out when Entreri arrived. Fortunately, Afafrenfere was working the register. He’d proven to be much more adept at handling Entreri than Drizzt himself. It seemed the man didn’t get under Aff’s skin the way he did Drizzt’s. Only half of their conversation actually registered with Drizzt as he focused on the stubborn machine, but when he turned away from the grinder with his prize in hand (if a handful of hardened coffee grounds could be considered a prize) he tuned in just in time to hear Aff boldly toss out a pickup line.

“I always liked my coffee like I like my men. Dark and strong.”

Drizzt and Entreri, both considerably darker-skinned than Afafrenfere himself, made eye contact just as the awkward silence began.

 _I’ll have to talk to Aff about that line_. The boy was a flirt, and a shameless one at that, but sometimes he picked up lines and used them without thinking them through. The _‘Jamaican me crazy_ ’ line had been another one Drizzt had to encourage him to never, ever use again. And then there was the one he’d used the first time he met Effron…

_‘Hey, your hands look heavy. Want me to hold them for you?’_

That time, at least, Afafrenfere had realized his mistake as soon as he’d seen Effron shrug off the heavy winter coat that hid the fact that one of Effron’s arms was deformed and atrophied.

“Hey, Aff? Could you go grab a replacement blade for that grinder? There should be one in the back.” Entreri was still staring at Drizzt, his eyes filled with a deep-seated _did he really just say that?_ pain. Genuinely empathetic, Drizzt tried to send back a _yes and I am so sorry_. No matter how much Entreri irritated him, Aff’s pick-up lines were worse.

Afafrenfere, oblivious to just how flat his joke had fallen, nodded as he plopped Entreri’s coffee on the counter beside his coffeemaker. “Sure thing. Need anything else while I’m back there?”

“No. Just grab that, please.”

As soon as Aff darted into the back, Drizzt mouthed a _sorry_ at Entreri. The man only rolled his eyes, but from what little Drizzt had learned of him so far he was fairly certain that the lack of a barbed comeback meant Entreri didn’t mind too much.

Double-checking that his wedding ring, a simple gold band with a pattern of leaves etched into the surface, was still setting on the countertop where he’d left it, Drizzt nudged on the sink by the register to wash the coffee grounds off his hands. Running water and faint jazz music were the only sounds breaking the silence of the shop for a few short moments. Drizzt was just drying his hands and reaching for his ring when Afafrenfere returned with the spare grinder blade. Thanks to the tight quarters behind the bar, he managed to bump into Drizzt at the worst possible second. Drizzt’s hand jerked, and his ring went bouncing off the counter and across the floor. “ _Damn!_ ”

Before he could make a dash around the bar to chase his ring, he saw Artemis dart away from the counter and scoop the ring off the floor with surprising speed. The man stared at it, and for a heart-stopping moment Drizzt thought he was about to pocket it.

“Here.” Instead, Artemis set it on the counter with a soft _clink_. Drizzt quickly snatched it and slipped it back on. It was always a relief to have it back. Even after all these years, he didn’t like being parted with it.

“…you’re married?” Artemis was still standing by the counter, eyeing Drizzt with some curiosity. He sounded surprised by the thought that there might be a Do’Urden spouse.

To Drizzt, the question felt a little too personal. Especially coming from Entreri. Then again, they hadn’t yet bickered today. And the man _had_ returned Drizzt’s ring when he could have just as easily watched him scramble for it. And… and it was possible he was being too sensitive. He usually was, when it came to Catti-brie. “Yes,” Drizzt finally admitted. He twisted the ring, the metal cool against his skin. “I was. She… passed away a long time ago. Cancer.”

Catti-brie’s death had been hard. No, it had been _hell_. Watching the vibrant woman waste away despite her best efforts to fight off her damned disease had killed Drizzt by inches, and the day she slipped from his grasp he’d been sure he was going to die too. For a long time after that he’d thrown himself into his photography. He’d been the quintessential starving artist, save for the fact that he was driven by grief rather than any sort of artistic desire to return to a simpler life. For a while he’d even been homeless. It hadn’t been until he’d found a job at Black Magic that his life had begun to change for the better, and in the years since then reconnecting with old friends had helped him find his way back into the world.

Yet even after all that time, talking about her was difficult. And somehow, it seemed, Entreri understood that. Rather than a dry insult or a challenge, the man simply nodded and returned to his seat. No apologies, no sympathy, no pity. Just acknowledgement.

It felt surprisingly good.


	3. Pour Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters three and four will both be posted today! Sorry for the long wait. I'm hoping to complete this story over winter break if time allows. I have also edited the first two chapters, but no major plot events have changed.

Unknown

_Unkown: I told you, I’m not interested.  
_ _7:46_

_Drizzt: I’m sorry, who is this?  
_ _7:49_

_Unknown: Do you write your number  
on that many customers’ cups? Does  
Jarlaxle know you do this?  
_ _7:49_

_Drizzt: I’m not sure Jarlaxle would  
mind. But you have the wrong  
number. Or someone gave you   
the wrong number.  
_ _7:51_

_Unknown: Who is this?  
_ _7:52_

_Drizzt: Drizzt Do’Urden. Who is  
this?_ __  
7:52  
Read

* * *

 

Quick, clever fingers scrawled a phone number in black sharpie on the side of a white coffee cup, signing it with an _A_ and a heart. Lavender eyes watched from a distance, narrowed suspiciously. It was an open secret that Afafrenfere slipped his favorite customers his number. Poor Effron received Aff’s number on a weekly basis. Was it possible that Aff had… No. He wouldn’t. Would he?

Probably.

“Aff?” Drizzt was leaning on the pastry case, watching as Afafrenfere turned from the register to fill the cup with a smooth light roast, room for cream.

“Yeah?”

“Did you give someone my number?”

Drizzt didn’t miss the way Aff’s hand twitched. Coffee nearly sloshed over the brim of the cup, but the young man quickly recovered, popped on a lid, and slid it to the customer with a smile. Only once the handsome, harried man had hurried out the door did Aff turn to Drizzt with a too-bright smile. The door closed behind the customer without a sound, the bell having been broken for nearly a week now. Like the lock on the drip coffee machine, and the fussy grinder, it was likely to be months before it got fixed. “No. Why would I?”

Drizzt drummed his fingers on the glass top of the pastry case, steadily staring Aff down. He knew full well that Aff was lying, and he knew Aff knew he knew. “Based on the first message I received? Because you were flirting, and they weren’t interested, but you were… bored?”

Afafrenfere’s expression on innocence didn’t last long. It looked completely out of place to begin with, given that Drizzt knew better than he would have liked how thoroughly debauched the man truly was. Finally Aff abandoned it altogether with a quick bark of laughter. “Yeah. Yeah, I was bored. Aaand flirting. But he wasn’t into it, so I figured I’d try and get you some action. And you both like weird coffee.” As if that was all there was to explain, he shrugged.

Drizzt’s fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping, and a faint scowl replaced his steady stare. After a moment he gave up on glaring at Aff and shook his head. “You- My coffee isn’t weird. And that doesn’t mean you should give someone my number. Who is he, anyway?”

“Me.”

 _“What?”_ Drizzt’s attention snapped to the doorway. There stood Artemis, eyeing the pair of baristas behind the counter. Though he’d cleaned up considerably since the first time he’d graced the shop with his presence, the man still had a faintly grubby aura about him.

“He gave me your number,” Artemis declared with a nod towards Aff. It might have been Drizzt’s imagination, but the sharp-featured man seemed smug.

Oh, he was smiling now. Definitely smug. _Obnoxiously_ smug.

An irritated sigh, nearly a growl, slipped free of Drizzt. Afafrenfere, still caught at the register, had a hopelessly amused grin on his face as he watched the pair of older men make faces at each other. Drizzt was scowling again, and Artemis looked more and more pleased with every passing moment. Finally, Drizzt bumped Aff with his shoulder. “Back. You’re on break now. And we _are_ going to talk about this, Afafrenfere.”

The young man’s smile only grew wider. “Whatever you say, boss,” he sang. He was practically skipping as he headed for the back room.

The silence that fell in the front of the store was painfully awkward and broken only by peppy jazz.

“For what it’s worth,” Artemis drawled as he finally reached the register, “I didn’t ask him for it. I assumed it was his.” He jerked his head in the direction of the door to the back hall. “He’s… aggressive.” It was hard to tell by the man’s tone whether or not _aggressive_ was a bad thing. His own thoughts were hidden well enough that Drizzt couldn’t read them on his expression.

Slowly, Drizzt’s scowl gave way to a look of pure exasperation. “He’s something,” the drow muttered with a shake of his head, punching Artemis’ order into the register without looking. Large black coffee. Double price. “I’m sorry about that.”

A snort. “Why would you apologize?” Artemis held up a hand to forestall any actual reply from Drizzt. “Other than the fact that you are clearly exactly the kind of person who apologizes for everyone else’s mistakes.” That smug smile of his was only continuing to grow, and the most infuriating part about it was that his confidence seemed perfectly natural and well-earned.

“Maybe because it’s the polite thing to do?” Drizzt replied as dryly as he could manage. The response earned him what looked like a flash of approval in Artemis’ eyes, but it was immediately followed by another snort. Rolling his eyes in anticipation of what would certainly be a snide reply, Drizzt turned to grab a cup and Artemis’ coffee supplies.

“Not if you didn’t have anything to do with it,” the man shot back. “And I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t know how to flirt with a man if someone gave you an instructional video and a how-to guide.”

 _That_ comment had Drizzt shooting an incredulous look Artemis’ way even as he slid the coffee supplies across the counter and took his money in exchange. “Wait.” Counting out Artemis’ change was a matter of muscle memory by now, so the entirety of Drizzt’s attention was focused on the man across the counter from him. “You think any of this has to do with _flirting_?”

“No.”

Drizzt narrowed his eyes as he passed Artemis his change. That answer was too simple, especially in light of the man’s still-smug expression. He cocked his brow, asking a silent question that Artemis was more than happy to answer.

“It’s only flirting if you don’t delete my number.”

~

Drizzt didn’t delete Artemis’ number.

But despite the man’s claims to the contrary, it wasn’t flirting. Hells, how would Artemis even _know_ Drizzt hadn’t deleted it? It wasn’t as if they texted each other. They barely even _talked_ , save for when Drizzt rang Artemis up at Black Magic. At best they were friend- No. Not friends. Friendly acquaintances? Maybe? It wasn’t as if Drizzt knew anything about Artemis’ life. Or cared. He wasn’t curious why the man showed up at eleven in the morning on the dot some days and at one in the morning others. Nor did he wonder about just what it was the man was working on so very intently when he sat in the shop and squinted at his laptop while his coffee slowly grew cold. And he _certainly_ didn’t notice when more than a week went by without a sign of Artemis.

He certainly didn’t miss him. Not at all.

Wasn’t worried about him either.

Not a bit.

* * *

 

Artemis

_Drizzt: Afafrenfere thinks you died. He  
told me to text you.  
_ _4:18pm_

_Drizzt: If you’re dead, we’re getting rid  
of your coffee._ __  
4:26pm

_Artemis: Don’t touch my coffee damnit.  
_ _3:39am_

_Artemis: I’m not dead._ _  
3:39am_

_Artemis: My coffee better be there when I  
get back.  
__3:39am_  
Read

* * *

It was another week before Artemis returned. When he blew into the shop, spilling in from the darkness outside at one in the morning on a Tuesday, he was the only customer. Drizzt was at the register, perched on a stool stolen from a table, fidgeting with a new camera. It was one he’d bought on a whim, a little hipster camera that printed photos instantly like a much older Polaroid. There was no way he could take it with him when he went into the field, but it seemed like it could be fun for personal projects. Maybe he could make a display for the shop, or for Harkle’s bookstore. It would be a nice way to give back, and free publicity never hurt.

The _bong_ of the newly-repaired bell over the door distracted him from the camera’s settings, and he brightened in spite of himself at the site of Artemis. “It’s about time,” he called out, setting the camera aside and rising to his feet. “We were about to sell your things.”

“Ha. Ha.” Artemis looked decidedly the worse for wear. His beard was growing back, scraggly and unkempt, and the barest hint of a deep bruise lingered under his right eye. “You better still have my damn coffee.”

“Of course we do.” Drizzt had the machine and grounds pulled out by the time Artemis reached the register, but he didn’t punch in the man’s order right away. Up close, Artemis looked even worse. Exhaustion was etched into every line of his face, and there was something in his eyes Drizzt had never seen before. It wasn’t anger or stress. Or frustration. It was somewhere in between all three, something close to exasperation but far more potent. “…you’ve been gone a while,” he comments carefully, not wanting to point out the man’s appearance any more directly than that. “We were wondering where you’ve been.”

“Around.” Artemis already had his money out, and the tight set of his jaw discouraged any further questioning.

Accepting the clear message he’d just been sent, Drizzt started entering Artemis’ order. Large black coffee, double- No. Not tonight. “Two twenty-five.” He tried to take Artemis’ usual ten-dollar bill, but the man didn’t let go of it. Not even when Drizzt cleared his throat and tugged.

“…that’s not right. It’s supposed to be four-fifty.” His gray eyes were narrowed, and he was fully in Drizzt’s personal space when he leaned forward to glare at the register screen. “Not two twenty-five. Four-fifty.”

“Um…” Drizzt cleared his throat again, the sound uncomfortable this time. “We… charge you double. Because Jarlaxle said… said to.” _This_ was an entirely new level of awkward. He’d never expected to actually have to tell Entreri they’d been cheating him since he started coming to Black Magic. Gods help him, why hadn’t he just ignored that little command from Jarlaxle in the first place? It wasn’t right. And besides, paying out of pocket for the lost profits would have been preferable to the intense discomfort of-

“I _know_. I’m not an idiot. Double it.”

“Wait, what?”

“Double it.”

Drizzt stared at Artemis for a moment. Artemis stared back. Then, finally, Drizzt looked down and doubled the total. Only then did Artemis relinquish his ten.

“I wouldn’t pay if I didn’t want to,” he pointed out with considerable irritation. When Drizzt handed him his coffee supplies he just about snatched them away. There was no more conversation as he stalked over to his usual table. He didn’t even wait for Drizzt to give him his change. After a moment, Drizzt just shook his head and tucked the coins and singles into the tiny tip jar by the register.

Artemis was… _strange_. He was ornery and arrogant, but he tipped generously and, apparently, willingly paid double for his coffees. He genuinely hated people, judging by his visible irritation any time other customers crowded too close to his table, but he returned to Black Magic nearly every day. He was grubby, his laptop and laptop case were battered, and Drizzt strongly suspected that whatever it was he did for a living wasn’t exactly legal, but he had a taste for expensive coffees and brewed them himself with an impressive precision.

Who _was_ this man?

It didn’t take long for curiosity to overwhelm him. “Why keep paying?” he called after Artemis.

Artemis lifted his gaze from his coffee and stared steadily at Drizzt for a moment. There wasn’t quite disdain in his eyes, but more a silent sort of judgement. _Stupid question_ , that look said. _Why ask?_

“You could have bought that machine yourself already with how much you’ve paid,” Drizzt pointed out. He’d sat down and done the math a few days ago, when he was shopping for a new machine for himself. The shop had already made back well over twice what Jarlaxle must have spent to get Artemis’ supplies. Financially speaking, it made no sense for the man to keep coming back to Black Magic for his daily coffee. “Why keep coming to us?”

At first it seemed Artemis wasn’t going to give him an answer. The man’s attention returned to his coffee, his silence steely and speaking volumes. Then, just as Drizzt was about to give up and return to playing with his camera, Artemis actually spoke. “Maybe I like the company.”

“You do?” The drow’s prompt response was a little more skeptical than he’d meant it to be, which immediately left him feeling faintly guilty. “I mean, I’ve seen the way you and Jarlaxle bicker. And I know for a fact I irritate you, and that you aren’t interested in Afafrenfere.” _For which I and probably Effron are both eternally grateful_. “So… why keep returning?”

Artemis kept his eyes fixed on his brewing coffee, but lifted a brow. “I told you. I like the company.” Only when he was finished speaking did he turn his cool grey gaze on Drizzt. In the light of the shop, dim compared to the bright light of the pastry case and the neon lights of the bars down the street, his eyes almost seemed to glow. _Your move_ , they told Drizzt.

“…Oh.” _Smooth response, Do’Urden._ But really, Drizzt didn’t know what to make of this conversation. In spite of their occasional… flirtations, he’d been operating under the assumption that Artemis regarded him with mild distaste at best and outright annoyance at worst. The notion that the man might regard him as anything more than a nuisance had never floated across his mind. Or if it had, he’d never seriously entertained it. Until now. “Alright then.”

His faintly stunned response was apparently comical to Artemis. A faint sound that _could_ have been a laugh broke the quiet of the shop, and when the man focused yet again on his coffee Drizzt could have sworn there was a smile on his face. The barista’s suspicions were partially confirmed when Artemis glanced his way again, revealing an amused smirk. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt that you have halfway decent coffee.”

“You call _that_ halfway decent?” The shocked question slipped out before Drizzt could stop it, which was apparently becoming a recurring problem for him when Artemis was around. After a moment, however, he realized he didn’t even want to take it back. He’d _smelled_ Artemis’ coffee. It had _nothing_ on his Iruladoon blend. Suggesting otherwise, suggesting that it was even half as good, was a challenge that couldn’t go unanswered.

Artemis shot Drizzt a look filled to overflowing with open judgement. “Actually,” he answered steadily after a moment’s pause, “I’d call it fucking amazing coffee. And I think anyone with taste would agree.” The reply could not have been more pointed.

“Hah. No.” Drizzt held up a hand and glanced at the entrance to the shop. “Wait here a moment. Don’t steal anything.” Then, before Artemis could protest or throw a barb back at Drizzt, the drow scurried into the back room. It took him a matter of moments to gather his pour-over unit and Iruladoon blend.

A challenge had been issued, and Drizzt wasn’t about to back down.

~

“Gods, that’s _disgusting_.” The look on Artemis’ face damn near broke Drizzt’s heart. Drizzt had sampled the man’s Memnon blend, and it was… well it was _okay_.

_“’Okay’? What in the hells do you mean it’s ‘okay’? That’s amazing coffee, and you know it.” From the look on Entreri’s face, an onlooker would have guessed Drizzt had just insulted his mother or kicked his dog. Or both. At the same time._

“It is not!” Drizzt declared, reaching out to snatch back the cup. Artemis was a little too quick for him, holding it just out of reach. After a split second, he snatched Drizzt’s cup too. The drow growled in response and just started to rise from his seat, but a quick twitch of Artemis’s hands threatened a massive spilling of coffee and forced Drizzt to freeze halfway up.

“It absolutely is. It’s _water_. Brown water.” The man actually looked _hurt_. “Is this really what you drink? You can’t be serious. No one could drink that daily without killing themselves.”

“It’s _good_!” Drizzt insisted with a glare. His purple eyes glittered with irritation. “I- Just because you have no taste doesn’t change that it is _excellent_ coffee, Artemis!” For a moment he looked like he would lunge for the coffee, and Artemis tensed visibly. He twitched his hands again, threatening to slosh the coffee onto the clean tile floors, and Drizzt slumped back down into his seat. He was still glaring, but Artemis relaxed visibly.

“…I’ll drink mine,” the drow finally grumbled. “And you drink yours. Deal?”

“I think it would be cruel to make you drink this.”

“Entreri…”

“Fine.”

They glared at each other as they drank their coffees.

~

The glares didn’t last long. Even sitting across from someone with deplorable taste in coffee, it was hard not to enjoy his own drink. And as Drizzt sipped it, and the silence dragged on, he let go of his tension and his glare. It took longer for Artemis to cease glaring, but eventually he relaxed into the silence in much the same way Drizzt had. It turned into something of a waiting game after a while, each man waiting for the other to speak up first.

Finally Drizzt decided to forfeit the game. “So… why that blend?”

Artemis glanced at him over his cup, then shrugged. “Reminds me of home. Grew up in the south. Could always smell coffee like this on the streets near the coffeehouses.” He nodded at Drizzt’s own coffee. “You?”

“Hm.” Drizzt took a slow sip, savoring the taste of it. _He’s an idiot. This is good_. “It reminds me of the mountains,” he finally replied. “It’s clean and simple. Tastes a little like the smell of pine sometimes. It’s very… freeing. That’s what it tastes like.” The explanation was followed by a shrug, his face growing a little warm when he realized how excessively poetic he sounded. “I just like it.”

“You like nature?”

“Yeah.” Dark fingers drummed a quick tattoo on the side of his cup. “Yeah,” Drizzt repeated. “After… After Catti died, I was a mess for a while. Until I found a job here, started picking up nature photography jobs again.”

Artemis hummed thoughtfully. “And Catti was your wife?”

“… yeah.”

“… sorry for your loss.”

Drizzt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, intensely grateful that no one else was in the shop. The night was dark and rainy, and the street on the other side of the window behind him was quiet. Tonight would be slow. “Don’t be,” he finally replied. “It’s been a long time. And she’s somewhere better now.”

“Hm. Maybe so.” Artemis’ quiet grunt wasn’t a contradiction, nor was his shrug dismissive. Not in any offensive way, at least. It seemed to Drizzt that the man must not share his beliefs, which was fair enough. The fact that he chose enough not to argue with Drizzt spoke volumes. “But loss is still hard.”

The frank tone with which Artemis spoke caught Drizzt’s attention. “You sound like someone who has experienced his share of loss,” he commented delicately. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up painful memories for the man, but he was curious. Artemis had been a closed book since the day they met, but now Drizzt was starting to feel as if he was just getting a glimpse of a new side to him.

At first the only answer he received was another grunt. Artemis pointedly didn’t look at Drizzt as he took a slow sip of his dark, bitter coffee, but when he set his cup back down on the table between his battered laptop case and his elegant pour-over unit he nodded. “Yeah. It’s complicated.” He dug his thumbnail into the side of his cup as he spoke, scratching a little pattern into the waxy paper.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Drizzt pointed out promptly.

“I know,” Artemis shot back without much force. “I wasn’t planning on it. Not everyone spills their life story at the drop of a hat, Drizzt.” He didn’t sound truly irritated. After spending so long trading verbal jabs with the man, Drizzt was confident he could tell when Artemis meant to snap at him. This wasn’t that. Instead it sounded more… honest. Simpler. A statement of fact with little judgement.

So he merely shrugged. “Perhaps some of us find grief easier to bear when it is shared among friends.” Gods knew it was Drizzt’s friends who had pulled him from the dark place he’d fallen into after Catti-brie’s death. Regis, ever stubborn, had found him the job at Black Magic and enlisted Bruenor, equally stubborn and twice as loud, to force Drizzt to drag himself to work. There, Jarlaxle’s relentless charm had slowly pulled Drizzt out from his grief, and with each of his friends helping in their own way he’d managed to find his place in the world once more.

“Is that what we are?” Artemis stopped scratching at the side of his cup and studied Drizzt for a moment. His analytical gaze reminded Drizzt of the way Artemis had dissected him the first time they’d met, looking right through him as if trying to learn how he worked. “Friends?”

Another shrug. “I hope so,” Drizzt replied simply. And he meant it. Somehow, despite the rocky start to their relationship, he _had_ come to consider Artemis a friend. A good one. And, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he’d entertained the thought of sharing something more than friendship with the man. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea yet. There’d been no one else since Catti-brie, and not for lack of opportunity. And never a man, not since his days in the academy in Menzoberranzan. Still, it was a thought that had crossed his mind.

“Huh.” Artemis let out another grunt and took another sip of coffee. This time when he set his cup down he reached for his laptop case, tugging out his laptop and settling it on the table in front of him. When he opened it, Drizzt assumed their conversation was over. Perhaps he’d pushed Artemis too far? Or perhaps the man just didn’t know how to respond. Artemis Entreri didn’t seem to Drizzt to be the sort of man who had many friends. Maybe he didn’t even consider Drizzt a friend, and Drizzt had missed a hint somewhere along the line. Regardless, the slender drow felt surprisingly at ease as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet to return to his spot behind the counter. Even if he’d made Artemis uncomfortable, he’d at least been honest. Honesty had rarely steered Drizzt wrong.

He was halfway back to his stool when Artemis spoke. The man didn’t look up from his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys as he got to work doing whatever it was kept him staring at that screen for hours when he set up shop in Black Magic, but his voice was loud enough to carry to Drizzt nonetheless. “If we’re friends,” he said without so much as a glance Drizzt’s way. “I _am_ going to stop paying you double for my coffee.”

Drizzt lingered by the coffee bar, his head cocked slightly to one side as he waited to see if Artemis had anything more to say. Nothing more was forthcoming, so he turned and slipped around the bar. He didn’t say anything in reply. There was nothing more that needed to be said, and no reason to break the comfortable quiet of the shop again.

But by the time he returned to his seat and picked up his new camera once more, Drizzt was smiling to himself.


	4. Organic Fair Trade Hazelnut Blend, Room for Cream and Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to SquirellyThief! If you haven't read her series Moonlight Over the Forest, you absolutely have to go check it out. Credit for The Raven's Conspiracy and Talim goes directly to her.  
> Thank you all for your patience and for the wonderful comments! I write for fun, and I love hearing that other people enjoy what I've written. I hope you're all having a safe, warm, and happy winter season!

Artemis Entreri

 _Artemis: I hate your coffee.  
_ _3:56am_

 _Drizzt: Why would you text me that at_  
three in the morning?  
_6:29am_

 _Artemis: Oh, so you’re not dead. Good._  
Meet me at Black Magic at two.  
_6:31am_

 _Drizzt: Why? I’m not working today._  
What is this about?  
_6:31am_

 _Artemis: Your terrible taste in coffee.  
_ _6:32am_

 _Drizzt: My taste in coffee isn’t terrible.  
_ _6:32am_

 _Artemis: Yes it is.  
_ _6:32am_

 _Drizzt: No it isn’t.  
_ _6:33am_

 _Artemis: Yes.  
_ _6:33am_

 _Drizzt: No.  
_ _6:33am_

 _Artemis: Black Magic. Two. Be there.  
_ _6:34am_

 _Drizzt: Do you know what an aggravating_  
person you are?  
_6:34am_

* * *

Drizzt spent most of the morning telling himself it would be absurd to go to Black Magic on his day off simply because Artemis had seen fit to summon him there. This was his first day off in months, a precious chance to work on his portfolio for a few hours and spend the rest of the day enjoying himself. Giving that up for Artemis would be…

Well, maybe it wouldn’t be _that_ bad. The two of them had shared a number of surprisingly pleasant conversations since the night they’d sampled each other’s’ preferred coffees. They still butted heads, of course. Artemis couldn’t seem to go a day without throwing out some jab at Drizzt’s reading material, or his coffee, or his hair, or whatever else caught Artemis’ eye. Yet each little insult and argument seemed to Drizzt to be gentler than the last. It was less bickering and more banter. Something easier. Fun, even. So perhaps there was nothing wrong with meeting with Artemis. It could be pleasant.

Or more than just pleasant.

Realizing he’d been staring at the same photo on his computer screen for twenty minutes without making a single change, Drizzt sighed and shoved his wheeled chair away from his desk. Clearly his mind wasn’t on editing this morning. Guenhwyvar, who had been curled in a tight ball on the floor with her head on his feet, glared at him and _mrped_ in indignation at the loss of her makeshift pillow. The sound made Drizzt lean forward with a smile and prop his elbows on his knees. When he made a face at her she made one right back, scrunching up her features and letting her tongue drop out past her sharp teeth. The drow laughed.

He’d first found Guenhwyvar a year after Catti-Brie’s death, when he was living out of his car in the northern part of the state under the guise of practicing his nature photography. In reality he’d spend most of his days hiking until his feet hurt and then sleeping until he was ready to hike again. It wasn’t a healthy way to live, but he’d been so lost in his own grief that he’d completely lost sight of all the good still left in his life. On one of his many hikes he’d found Guen, a tiny kitten lost in the middle of the mountains where a cat had no business being. Her tiny cries had drawn his attention even in his depressed state, and when he’d found the little black bundle of fur awkwardly stumbling through snow deeper than she was tall he’d scooped her up without thinking twice. He’d cut his hike short to take her back to his car, where he hand fed her tiny pieces of beef jerky and little spoonfuls of water. The next day he’d skipped his hiking for the first time in months to buy milk and cat food in town, and that had been that. Since then, Drizzt had never been away from Guen for more than a day. He had more conversations with her than he did with some of his oldest friends.

“I might have to leave you alone for a while this afternoon,” he told her. “I think I just might go see what it is Artemis wants with me. Though I have a feeling it’s just going to be an hour or so of him insulting my coffee.” With another _mrp_ , Guen rose to her feet and slowly stretched, then eyed Drizzt expectantly. “I can’t take you with me,” he told her. _Mrap._ “What if we go hiking this weekend instead?” _Mrrrrrp._ “Then it’s a date.”

With that he stood and stretched his arms up over his head until his back cracked. Even with his morning routine of training and stretching, Drizzt had found himself growing stiffer and stiffer over the past year or so. He blamed his desk. His photography had been getting more attention from larger publications since a shot of a diving peregrine falcon just touching the surface of a lake had taken placed in a _National Geographic_ competition last May, which meant business was better than it ever had been. Unfortunately, it also meant he had to spend many more hours at his desk sorting through his shots and selecting the very best for editing and publication. Still, the work was paying off. The board of _Neverwinter Natural Science_ had invited him back for a second interview, and the editors he’d met with had seemed impressed with his portfolio. Not just the falcon shot, but all of it. If he got the job he’d be away from his desk for a good week or more collecting shots for their native fauna special edition. It was a thrilling opportunity, but it would be a while yet before he heard back from the journal. If he even heard back from them at all. Sometimes the prestigious publications didn’t even bother with rejection notices. Aspiring contributors just never heard anything from them again.

Pushing that thought aside, Drizzt saved his project and went looking for his coat. Another few hours at his desk now would do nothing to change his odds of getting the job. Far better to get some lunch and see what Artemis wanted. He’d earned a break.

~

Come ten to two in the afternoon, Drizzt was already walking the familiar path to Black Magic. His small apartment was only a six-minute walk away, and after eight years he could find his way to the shop blindfolded if he had to. Rain or shine, he always walked. For once, however, he wasn’t dressed in the simple clothes he wore to work. While Jarlaxle didn’t demand a dress code, Drizzt usually threw on a pair of black or tan pants and a collared shirt when he was working. Today he wore a worn pair of comfortably worn jeans instead, paired with a green turtleneck and a battered brown jacket. It was the perfect warm outfit for the cool day.

To his surprise, he actually found Artemis waiting for him _outside_ the shop when he arrived at four to two. The man looked much the same as ever, scruffy and a little grubby, but he had no laptop case with him this time. It felt a bit odd to see him like this in the light of day. Even though Drizzt logically knew that the man had to be out and about during the day. Hells, he came into the coffee shop in the morning as often as in the evening. But Artemis just seemed so much more to be a creature of the night. He would have looked more at home under the violent neon of the bar lights than he did standing in the bright autumn sunshine outside Jarlaxle’s eccentric coffee shop.

“Good afternoon,” Drizzt called out when he was close enough. Artemis just responded with a grunt, holding back any further reply until Drizzt drew closer. Once the two were side-by-side, he looked Drizzt up and down. Drizzt hadn’t gotten used to Artemis’ sharp gaze even after all these months. It was unsettling to be so thoroughly examined, especially by someone so inscrutable. Some days Drizzt could read exactly what Artemis thought of him in the set of the man’s jaw, the angle of his eyebrows or the light in his eyes. Other days Artemis was as unreadable to Drizzt as an Infernal text.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Artemis finally replied, abandoning his thorough examination of Drizzt. His lips quirked just a little as he spoke. They both knew Drizzt was right on time, but that was hardly enough to stop him tossing out a dry jab.

Drizzt only responded with a broad smile. It would take more than that to rile him, especially coming from Artemis. “I’ll walk faster next time,” he teased right back. “But I wasn’t in much hurry to get here just to have my taste in coffee insulted all over again. I assume that’s what you wanted me for?”

Artemis rolled his eyes. “No,” he declared gruffly. There was something a little off about his expression, like there was something he was trying to hide. Something he wasn’t saying. Drizzt picked up on that subtle oddity with ease, but he had no idea what to make of it. “I’m giving up on telling you you’re wrong.”

 _That_ took Drizzt by surprise. Had he won their little coffee war at long last? Was this a surrender? He could feel his smile growing wide, and his eyes sparkled as he opened his mouth to tease Artemis again. Before he could say anything, Artemis interrupted him with a raised hand.

“Instead, I’m going to _show_ you you’re wrong,” he concluded, a small, smug smile finally breaking through the cracks in his expression Drizzt had noticed earlier.

Drizzt’s smile fell flat.

~

Artemis’ plan for proving Drizzt wrong involved a coffee shop- and one that wasn’t Black Magic. The Raven’s Conspiracy was about three blocks east of Jarlaxle’s shop, near the river in a gentrified part of town where the streets were lined with young oaks and every shop had at least one unfinished brick wall and more than its fair share of reclaimed wood in the custom furniture. Raven’s looked considerably more like a proper coffee shop than Black Magic did. The floor was semi-polished stone, the chairs and stools a greyish wood with off-white cushions, and the counters a light granite. The rich scents of coffee and baked goods (gluten free, according to the sign at the door) filled the air and welcomed everyone who stepped through the door with a promise of a delicious, warm escape from the chilly afternoon outside. The open floor plan made it feel much more spacious than Drizzt was used to, and as he and Artemis waited in line he couldn’t help but be envious of the amount of space behind the coffee bar. There was actually room to work.

“So why exactly did you bring me here?” Drizzt asked Artemis as they waited for the family ahead of them to finish placing their rambling orders. He’d spent a good chunk of the walk over trying to pry some sort of insight into Artemis’ plans out of the man, but Artemis had proven to be dangerously good at redirection and distraction and at outright ignoring Drizzt’s questions.

Now that they were here, however, he was apparently more willing to answer. “Good coffee,” Artemis replied, nodding at the menu hanging above the coffee bar. “Better than yours.” His lips twitched, but despite that charming sign of his amusement Drizzt frowned.

“Oh?” he asked with mild irritation. “Is that so?” He glanced up at the menu, and his frown deepened when he saw that Iruladoon blend was nowhere to be seen. Front and center, however, just beneath the stylized black raven with a single red primary feather in its wing that served as the shop’s logo, was _Memnon Blend- black, bitter, strong. Staff favorite!_

“Yup.” This time Artemis grinned openly. No, wait- he _smirked_. It was an infuriating little expression. It also looked perfectly natural on the man’s face, which frustrated Drizzt even more. Smugness wasn’t supposed to be _charming_. Especially when the charmingly smug man in question was insulting Drizzt’s taste in coffee yet _again_.

Infuriating. Completely infuriating. Not charming at all. _Infuriating_.

Soon enough it was their turn to order. Artemis ordered his Memnon blend, predictably enough, and Drizzt was a bit surprised the man didn’t demand pour-over. Was that particular ritual reserved for Black Magic? If so, _why_? Probably just to be a pain. Probably to cause problems for Jarlaxle, or maybe for Drizzt. Maybe even for Aff, though Drizzt was fairly sure Aff hadn’t done anything to earn Artemis’ lasting ire after the botched pickup attempt. Whoever it was directed at, it was _certainly_ all just Artemis trying to be an absolute-

 _“Drizzt._ ”

Drizzt was yanked from his thoughts to find Artemis staring at him with a faintly incredulous and decidedly irritated expression. He jerked his head towards the menu. “Are you going to order or not?”

Drizzt blinked, then swore under his breath. “Yes, sorry,” he muttered, nudging Artemis out of the way with a quick glare. His face burned with embarrassment. After apologizing to the bored-looking young woman behind the register (Talim, according to nametag), he glanced up at the menu. “I’ll have-” He scanned the menu for a moment, mourning the lack of drinks he was familiar with. “-the hazelnut blend. Room for cream and sugar. Sorry again.”

It was a relief that Artemis didn’t ask him why he’d forgotten to order, but Drizzt could feel the man’s eyes on him as they paid for their coffees and went to wait at the end of the counter. It didn’t take long for both drinks to be poured. Once they had their coffees, Drizzt stopped by the smaller counter holding sugar and cream while Artemis went on to claim a table for them. Once Drizzt was done adding sugar (two packets) and cream (just a splash) to his coffee, he spotted Artemis at a table by one of the shop’s wide windows. He was already seated, his back to a corner and his attention on his phone for the moment. Drizzt quickly grabbed a stirrer and wove his way between the other tables to join him. As he approached, Artemis glanced up at him, then kicked out the chair on the other side of the table. It was as close to a polite gesture as he’d gotten from Artemis all day, so Drizzt thanked him as he sat down and pulled his chair back in.

“So?” Artemis asked without preamble, tossing aside his phone and nodding at the coffee in Drizzt’s hands.

“So what?” Drizzt shot back. “I haven’t had a chance to try it yet. I just sat down, Artemis.” He would have been lying if he claimed he wasn’t procrastinating on trying his drink as he slowly began stirring it, so he settled on a partially-true excuse. “It needs to cool.”

Clearly he was less than convincing, given the way Artemis rolled his eyes. “No it doesn’t. You added milk. Or cream. That cools it down. Try it.” He popped the lid of his own coffee and set it aside. Tiny fingers of steam curled up from the surface of the drink, but it stayed as black as it had been the moment the barista handed it to him. Drizzt could smell the strong, bitter coffee from where he sat. “You’re going to like it, Drizzt. Broaden your horizons.” There was a certain note of dry humor in the last comment as the man waved his hand in Drizzt’s direction.

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re trying to poison me,” Drizzt shot back, a little sour. Only a little, of course. Even now, the back-and-forth banter with Artemis was something of a fun game, so it was hard to be fully sour. “You’re very insistent on this.”

“I’m insistent on breaking you of your godawful coffee habits. _Drink_.” Artemis pointed one finger at Drizzt, and a silent threat hung in the air between them.

Frowning in consternation at the man but unable to stall much longer, Drizzt sighed and drank.

Artemis watched him like a hawk, still and confident but obviously eager to spot a reaction. “Well?” he demanded as soon as Drizzt set his cup back down. His own coffee remained untouched untouched.

“It’s…” Drizzt blinked, then stared at his cup for a moment. _Damn the man._ To Drizzt’s great displeasure, Artemis had been completely right about the coffee. It was an amazing blend. The flavor was rich and smooth with a nutty flavor that balanced perfectly with the sugar and cream, and it had been brewed expertly. Just the right temperature, just the right ratio of grounds to water. _Everything_ was just right. It was perfection in a cup.

But he didn’t want to admit it to Artemis.

“It’s…?” Artemis echoed impatiently. “Come on, Do’Urden, you were waxing poetic about that damn special-order blend of yours the other night. You have to have something to say.” His eyes continued to bore into Drizzt, the harsher scent of his own coffee filling the air between them. It burned at Drizzt’s nose just as powerfully as it always did in Black Magic, but even that wasn’t enough to erase the sweet taste of the hazelnut blend.

Drizzt wet his lips. “It’s…” Finally he glanced up at Artemis and abandoned any attempt to hide his reaction. It would be a sin to lie about coffee this good. “It’s _incredible_ ,” he reluctantly admitted, knowing full well Artemis would be smugger than he’d been all day.

Sure enough, a wide, infuriating grin stretched across the man’s features and his dark eyes glittered with amusement. “I told you so,” he declared, almost crowing. It was the most openly pleased Drizzt had ever seen him, and the drow couldn’t help but smile right back.

He was just glad his dark skin hid the blush burning across his cheeks.


	5. Boiled Coffee/Cold Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least one more chapter and an epilogue left in this story. Thanks as always to SquirrellyThief for her input, and to all of you for the wonderful comments and support. I've very much enjoyed writing this fic, and I'm excited to wrap it up and move on to a new project. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Artemis Entreri

_Drizzt: Thank you, by the way.  
_ _4:13pm_

_Drizzt: For the coffee recommendation.  
_ _4:13pm_

_Artemis: This is the part where you admit  
you were wrong and I was right.  
_ _4:15pm_

_Drizzt: I’m not wrong. I still like my coffee Just  
because I also liked the coffee you  
recommended doesn’t mean I’m wrong.  
_ _4:20pm_

_Artemis: Yes it does.  
_ _4:21pm_

_Drizzt: No it doesn’t.  
_ _4:21pm_

_Artemis: Yes.  
_ _4:22pm_

_Drizzt: I’m not going to argue with you like  
this again.  
_ _4:22pm_

_Artemis: Too late.  
_ _4:23pm_

* * *

The coffee at Raven’s Conspiracy was good enough that Drizzt found himself going back at least twice a week after his…

His…

Date? Had that been a date? Even three weeks later he wasn’t certain. They’d definitely flirted, before and during and after that day. Assuming Artemis’ dry, smug teasing _was_ flirting. And Drizzt was pretty sure it was. Which he was _definitely_ okay with. It had taken him a weekend, a hike with Guen, and a joint to make up his mind, but he’d definitely come to the conclusion that he was genuinely interested in Artemis Entreri. The man was an ass, to be sure, but he was an interesting ass. And an attractive one. And witty, if a little arrogant. Or a lot arrogant. But even that arrogance was balanced out by his dry, unexpected charm that constantly took Drizzt by surprise. It made every encounter with Artemis something new, unexpected, and usually enjoyable in the end.

Despite his first impression of the man, Drizzt was falling head over heels for the ass who’d wandered into Black Magic months ago.

Still, his own feelings meant next to nothing when it came to determining the nature of their trip to The Raven’s Conspiracy. It was possible the day had meant nothing at all to Artemis beyond a chance to prove some point about Drizzt’s coffee. Drizzt had toyed with the idea of simply asking Artemis about it all, but that seemed a little forward. Besides that, there was a distinct possibility he’d get punched in the face if he asked and the answer was _no_. That left him with two options: reflect on the date and dissect every second of it until he had an answer, or wait and see what the passage of time would bring.

Given that analyzing the date made him feel a little obsessive, he decided to wait and see what was yet to come.

So far, however, there hadn’t been much. Artemis still came in every day for his coffee, usually while Drizzt was working, and he still tossed little barbed comments and quick jabs Drizzt’s way. Drizzt bore most of them with a smile, and tried to give as good as he got. Every once in a while he even managed to make the man laugh. Artemis’ laugh was a dry, rasping sound, a low chuckle that brought a broad smile to Drizzt’s face. As Drizzt mastered the man’s dry sense of humor he heard that laugh more often, though it remained rather rare. And every time he heard it, every single time, Drizzt found himself inching closer to breaking down and asking the man out. What was the worst that could happen?

He even considered asking Afafrenfere for advice. It was a desperate move, but he was quickly running out of options. Besides, Aff had proven that he wasn’t utterly hopeless when it came to romance. Sometime when Drizzt hadn’t been paying close enough attention, the curly-haired young man had apparently managed to wrangle Effron into a relationship. Hardly a day went by without Aff spending the bulk of his afternoon break distracting Effron from his studies as they both sprawled out on the couch at Black Magic. Effron himself seemed slightly shocked, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was actually in a relationship with Afafrenfere, but it was obvious they cared for each other. If nothing else, maybe Aff had advice on a nice date destination.

But before Drizzt could bite the bullet and say anything to Afafrenfere _or_ the object of his own affections, his life came to a screeching halt.

* * *

Jarlaxle

_Drizzt: Can’t come into work for a week. New  
contract. Last minute, I know. Okay to go?  
_ _9:04am_

_Jarlaxle: Knowing you, you’re already  
halfway out the door. We’ll manage.   
_ _9:06am_

_Jarlaxle: But expect overtime when you  
return.   
_ _9:06am_

_Drizzt: Of course. Thank you  
_ _9:07am_

_Jarlaxle: Don’t thank me. I’m just going  
to make Valas come in and cover your shifts.  
It’s no skin off my back. Try to come back in  
one piece.  
_ _9:07am_

* * *

It always amazed Drizzt how easy it was to slip between worlds. One day he could be quietly losing his mind as he handled the morning rush at Black Magic alone, and the next he could slip away to a quiet place under the stars and lose himself in the sounds of the nighttime forest. The change felt so natural, so freeing. It felt like coming home.

Word that he’d won the _Neverwinter Natural Science_ contract had come at the last possible second. Apparently they’d chosen another photographer first, a rather eccentric man by the name of Minsc, but some sort of family emergency had forced him to drop the job. The end result had been Drizzt receiving a professional but frantic call Thursday morning. They’d offered him the job on one condition: he had to be ready to leave that afternoon so the journal didn’t have to make new travel arrangements.

He’d agreed with a smile and been at the journal offices by three to pick up the truck that would take him up into the Spine of the World.

That had been nearly a week ago. For the past six days he and Guen had been camping beneath the stars each night and spending their mornings hiking a loop through the Spine. In the afternoons Drizzt set up his popup shelter in clearings and by streams where he could sit in silence for hours until the local wildlife trusted his presence enough to venture into view. He’d captured photos of deer, rabbits, countless birds, and (on one memorable afternoon) a mountain lion slinking through the snow. It was incredible how much one could see with a little patience and enough of an understanding of the rhythms of nature. It wasn’t easy, of course. The Spine of the World was a harsh mountain range, full of hidden gullies and steep drops and constantly beaten by harsh winds flying north through the forests and bringing with them heavy snows. Whenever he set up his tent he had to wrap himself in blankets to stave off the cold, and the morning hikes were challenging ones even for him. Still, it was refreshing. As much as he loved Black Magic, being out in the wild brought him peace and an indescribable joy. Here, in the whistling of the wind and the steep foothills beneath stark mountaintops, he’d found his place in the world.

But all good things had to end sooner or later. Tonight was his last night in the Spine. He was nearly back to the roadside clearing where he’d left his truck, and unless he’d sorely misjudged his location he’d reach it about an hour after noon tomorrow. From there it would be a four hour drive back to the journal offices, and then twenty minutes by taxi to get home. After that? Sleep, photo editing, a phone call to Jarlaxle to get himself put back on the schedule at Black Magic.

 _And I’ll have to text Artemis_. Though they only saw each other at Black Magic, and texted only rarely, more than a little guilt had settled itself in the pit of Drizzt’s stomach when he’d reached the Spine and realized he’d not told Artemis he was going to be gone. By the time he reached the mountains it was far too late. He never brought his cell phone with him on trips like this. All he had was a radio, and even that was only useful for emergencies. Even if he’d had his phone, he’d have no service out here so far from the popular trails. There was simply no way to contact Artemis. But ultimately Drizzt was certain everything would work out in the end. Artemis would understand once Drizzt explained his haste to leave and his absent cell phone, and everything would be fine. Perhaps that conversation would even provide an opening for him to finally ask the man out for coffee again.

For now, all he could do was set aside his guilt and enjoy the night. Tonight was his last under the stars. Guenhwyvar was curled up on his lap, both of them enjoying the crackling fire he’d built from dead wood and a handful of paper scraps. The air was filled with the scent of smoke and boiled coffee, the latter carried by the steam rising from Drizzt’s battered old campfire coffee pot. The steam and smoke both danced lazily up towards the night sky, occasionally losing their easy rhythm as the wind caught and scattered them. Time passed slowly as Drizzt watched the fire and smoke and stars, and as they sparkled high above him he smiled. The stars were stunning out here. Drizzt would never forget the first time he’d seen the night sky, so many decades ago, and even now every glimpse of every star filled him with an echo of the wonder and awe he’d felt back then. To him, those stars were symbols of everything he’d achieved in life. They were the obstacles he’d overcome and the light he’d found and clung to in order to keep the darkness of his past at bay. They were the spirits of those he’d loved and lost- family, friends, and his precious Catti-brie. They were promises of brighter things still yet to come, hidden in his future and just waiting for him to stumble across them. They made moments like this almost perfect.

The only thing that could have made it any better would have been sharing the moment with someone else.

~

Artemis Entreri’s expression was set in a scowl carved so deeply into his face that it seemed near-permanent. That scowl was powerful enough to conjure up a cloud of grim darkness surrounding him, which served to keep even the perkiest and most irritating soccer mom well away from his corner of Black Magic. He sat in the same seat he always did, the one with no tables behind it and a clear view of the coffee bar and the entrance, but today he wasn’t watching the doors or the barista behind the counter. His scowl was directed down at his coffee. It sat untouched, cold by now, and the deep black stillness of it _mocked_ him. It was a reflection of his foul mood.

 _Fucking_ Do’Urden. This foul mood was his fault. “Asshole,” Entreri muttered under his breath, still scowling at his cup. How hard was it to send a text to a friend? A short one would have sufficed. _“Going to be gone for a few days.”_ That would have been enough. But no, _apparently_ the high and mighty Do’Urden was too wrapped up in his photography to so much as bother.

Artemis Entreri wasn’t used to worrying about people. For most of his life he’d had no one to worry about. There’d been a few allies along the way whose survival he’d taken an interest in, and fewer friends, but even those he didn’t truly worry about. Artemis didn’t have time for allies or friends who couldn’t handle themselves. Or rather, he hadn’t had time for them before now. Now, retired from private military work and cut loose to live on a shitty pension and whatever odd jobs his one-time employer Jarlaxle decided to throw his way, Entreri had found it considerably more difficult to find people with sturdy enough spines to hold their own in life and enough brains to know when to back out of his way. Yet he’d managed to find Drizzt. There was something about the drow that Entreri had yet to name, something that resonated with him. They were both fighters, in their own ways, and yet they were too different to even be called two sides to the same coin. And _still_ , Entreri couldn’t keep Drizzt off his mind for long.

At first Drizzt had merely been an entertaining man to tease. It was a pleasant little _fuck you_ to Jarlaxle, being able to make his employee’s life just a little more difficult. Then Drizzt had… Entreri still didn’t know for sure what he’d done. But over time instead of crumbling or dismissing him as yet another garden variety asshole, Drizzt had pushed back. Entreri’s one-sided teasing turned into bickering, which eventually gave way to banter. Somewhere along the line it had all gotten under Artemis’ skin. _Drizzt_ had gotten under his skin. Enough to make Entreri take him out for coffee.

And then Drizzt disappeared. “Asshole,” Artemis muttered again, grabbing his coffee. The still surface broke and rippled as he took a quick drink. It _had_ gone cold, and the taste had him screwing up his face into an expression of disgust. He’d brewed it too weak to boot. What a fantastic day.

It wasn’t as if he’d been expecting Drizzt to suddenly start keeping him up to date on every second of his life. Artemis _had_ been waiting to see if Drizzt would make a move after their coffee date. It was obvious the drow was interested, and flirting in his own way, but Artemis wasn’t about to be the only one putting effort into making something happen between them. Just because he couldn’t flirt worth a damn and apparently had trouble reading even the most obvious interest didn’t mean he couldn’t find it in him to say _something_.

 _Well, now he’s said something._ There was no statement quite like a sudden disappearance. Artemis had thought nothing of it the first two days. The third he’d started to wonder a little. It was unusual to not see Drizzt at Black Magic more than three days in a row. Monday he’d send a text, half-joking, to alleviate the worry he was irritated to be feeling at all. From there things had only gotten worse, that worry eating at him no matter how violently he shoved it away, until he finally broke down on Wednesday and asked the curly-haired idiot Drizzt worked with where Drizzt had gone.

_“Oh, he’s just off on a job. His photography stuff,” Afafrenfere replied with a smile as he pushed Artemis’ coffee and pour-over unit across the counter. “I’m surprised he didn’t text you. Said he’ll be gone about a week. Should be back tomorrow, I think?”_

And there it was. Fucking Do’Urden hadn’t bothered to send a text letting Artemis know he’d be gone, and as a result Artemis had spent the better part of a week worrying something had happened to the drow. Artemis Entreri wasn’t used to worrying about people.

And he damn sure didn’t like it when someone gave him cause to.

~

It was almost six when Drizzt made it home, and between unpacking and picking up his mail and getting a few groceries from the corner shop and tending to everything else that had to be taken care of after a long absence it was almost ten at night before he remembered to pull his phone from his desk drawer and turn it on. He stifled a yawn as the screen brightened, thinking more about bed than his missed messages. Then his phone started to buzz and texts started to scroll across his screen. The name on each one caught Drizzt’s full attention in a heartbeat, and as he read them he felt his stomach drop.

* * *

 

Artemis Entreri

Monday

_Artemis: Did Jarlaxle finally run you off?  
Haven’t seen you in a few days.  
_ _6:04am_

_Artemis: Or are you dead?  
_ _10:49pm_

Tuesday

_Artemis: If you’re dead, I’m burying  
you with a bag of my coffee.  
_ _8:08am_

_Artemis: Hey Do’Urden, your coffee is shit.  
_ _12:56pm_

Wednesday

_Artemis: I’m going to assume you’re dead  
until someone tells me otherwise.  
_ _11:27am_

_Artemis: Apparently you’re not dead. Just  
an asshole. Fuck off.  
_ _4:23pm_

* * *

Drizzt stared at his phone, the guilt he’d set aside during his trip returning full force as his belief that everything would be fine once he just explained to Artemis what had happened dissipated. “Damn,” the drow muttered, still staring at the phone in his hand. “ _Damn_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it seemed like this fic was abandoned, but it was not! Life (and grad school applications) just got in the way. I wanted to make sure to come back and finish this fic though, and I feel satisfied to be putting a bow on it. I'm sorry it's a short ending, but it felt like the right place to end it and I wanted to make sure there was some degree of resolution. I may revisit this verse someday, but for now I just want to thank everyone who has read and commented on this fic. It's been a fun one to write, and I appreciate each and every one of you and your comments.

Memnon Blend

Afafrenfere

_Afafrenfere: oh my god just text him  
_ _9:22pm_

_Drizzt: Who?  
_ _9:25pm_

_Afafrenfere: don’t be dense  
_ _9:25pm_

_Drizzt: I didn’t ask you for advice, Aff.  
_ _9:26pm_

_Afafrenfere: you’re getting it anyway  
_ _9:26pm_

_Afafrenfere: just text the guy  
_ _9:26pm_

_Afafrenfere: and apologize  
_ _9:26pm_

_Afafrenfere: and stop pining  
_ _9:27pm_

_Drizzt: I’m not pining! I just don’t want  
to bother him when he clearly does  
not want to talk to me.  
_ _9:43pm_

_Drizzt: Besides, he has a right to be upset.  
_ _9:43pm_

_Afafrenfere: are you really doing the “noble  
suffering” thing now  
_ _9:45pm_

_Afafrenfere: why are you this way  
_ _9:45pm_

_Afafrenfere: This is Effron. Whatever Aff is  
telling you to do please just do it. He keeps  
texting during our movie night.  
_ _9:46pm_

_Drizzt: …sorry.  
_ _9:46pm_

~

It was a while before Drizzt saw Artemis again. Not because _Drizzt_ was avoiding him. Sure he was maybe a little too watchful of the door to the coffeeshop, and maybe a little too quick to disappear into the back for a fresh bottle of syrup when a human who looked like Artemis walked in (or even by), but he wasn’t _avoiding_ Artemis. The man just never showed up at the shop. Or at least, he didn’t show while Drizzt was working. According to Aff, Artemis _was_ still a regular. His little pour-over unit was still used and washed most days, tucked neatly back into its place behind the counter, and his supply of Memnon blend dwindled and was replaced. Yet every time Drizzt was at work, no matter how long his shift lasted, he saw neither hide nor hair of Artemis.

It was more upsetting than he wanted to admit.

In the end, he only held out a week. On his return he’d been properly guilt-wracked over everything that had happened, and he’d let himself wallow in it. Which, though he refused to admit it out loud to Aff, he knew was bad habit that he indulged in a little too often. After all, Artemis had a right to be guilty. And he had the right to not talk to Drizzt. Clearly, albeit unintentionally, Drizzt had hurt him. And because of that, Drizzt had no right at all to reach out to Artemis. All he would be doing would be pestering him if he did. Until then, the silence was simply Drizzt’s well-deserved punishment. His own actions had earned him this, and all he could do was accept it.

But Drizzt Do’Urden was, at the end of the day, a weak man when it came to Artemis Entreri.

~

Artemis Entreri

_Drizzt: I’m sorry  
_ _7:03am_

_Drizzt: For not saying anything to you  
about being gone.  
_ _7:03am_

_Drizzt: It was a last-minute opportunity, and  
I’m not used to telling anyone but Jarlaxle  
that I’m leaving.  
_ _7:03am_

_Drizzt: But that’s not an excuse. And it doesn’t  
justify me not saying anything. So I’m sorry,   
Artemis.  
_ _7:03am_

_Artemis: Fine.  
_ _4:22pm_

~

Getting a reply from Artemis felt like a victory, like Drizzt had just ran a marathon or landed a contract or summitted a mountain. Even when he reached work early the next morning to open, he couldn’t stop smiling. As far as he was concerned, the reply was all but a guarantee that he’d see Artemis today, and every time the bell over the door rang he glanced up with a bright smile in hopes of seeing Artemis walk in.

But Artemis never arrived.

The early morning carpools came and went, carrying away with them cupholders and black coffees with too many packets of sugar. The soccer moms stopped by after dropping off their children, seeking their daily fix and squawking about how _bad_ they were for ordering an extra shot and sweet syrups. College students trickled in and out, the dead looks in their eye and the amount of espresso in their orders telling Drizzt quite clearly that finals had begun. Effron posted up in his usual spot, joined for a few minutes here and there by a pleased Afafrenfere, and the afternoon flood of soccer moms once again arrived to commit their crimes against coffee. Through it all, there was no sign of Artemis. The pour-over unit remained untouched, and the new bag of Memnon blend sat unopened on the counter.

It remained unopened all day.

Finally four o’clock rolled around, and Drizzt couldn’t find any more work to make for himself to extend his shift. He’d been supposed to leave at three, and already Aff was poking at him again about ‘pining’ and ‘noble suffering bullshit’ and how he needed to ‘cool it with the angst.’ So, rather than risk the endless nagging he’d receive if he stayed, Drizzt gathered up his coat, tugged on his warm cap, and stepped out into the cool, early-winter afternoon.

Where had he gone wrong? He’d been so certain that Artemis had forgiven him. The man was never wordy in his texts, as sparing there as he was in their verbal sparring and cautious, subtle flirting. Assuming it _was_ flirting- Drizzt was second-guessing _that_ all over again. Had he misread things? No, surely not. After all, why would Artemis be so annoyed if there wasn’t some interest there? He wasn’t the sort of man to merely miss a friend who was gone for some time.

“Do’Urden.”

So maybe it was just that the apology hadn’t been enough. But what would be better? Flowers were too forward. Besides, there was no way to deliver them. Coffee was obvious, but surely Artemis was getting tired of all their interactions centering on the stuff. Or was he? If he was, then he’d have suggested something else by now.

_“Do’Urden.”_

What was the solution then? How was Drizzt supposed to make things right? Artemis was simply too inscrutable a man to be sure.

“Goddamnit, _Drizzt._ Pay attention.”

 _Oh._ There was Artemis. Drizzt was halfway down the block from Black Magic, and there was Artemis, standing on the sidewalk ten paces behind him, a pair of coffee cups emblazoned with a raven in his hands and a look of exasperation glinting in his eyes. Snowflakes, the first of the season, floated down around him and stuck to his ratty coat.

“Are you high, tired, or stupid?” he asked dryly, and Drizzt felt his heart skip a beat.

“None of the abo- well.” He flashed a quick, embarrassed grin at Artemis, then stepped a little closer. “Distracted. Hi.”

“Hi. Here.” Artemis thrust one of the coffees forward. “That’s yours.” The rich scent of coffee filled the air between them, and Drizzt couldn’t help but chuckle when he recognized the scent of Artemis’s Memnon blend.

“I guess Iruladoon was too much to hope for?” he asked, smiling warmly at Artemis and falling in place beside the man as he started walking down the sidewalk again. They were heading away from Drizzt’s apartment now, towards the river that flowed lazily through the center of the city, but Drizzt didn’t mind. The snow that was just starting to fall looked like it wouldn’t last long, and the hot coffee would keep his fingers warm.

Artemis snorted. “Like I’d pay for that shit. That’s not coffee, Drizzt.” He waved his cup. “ _This_ is coffee.”

Laughing softly, Drizzt took a slow sip of his own coffee. It warmed him from his toes to the tips of his ears. “So,” he asked casually, glancing over at Artemis. “Do you have any plans for this afternoon?”

The handsome human’s focus remained fixed on the sidewalk ahead of them. “This,” he replied, and Drizzt’s smile grew.

 _This_ , whatever it was, sounded like a perfect afternoon plan to him.


End file.
